


How's the diet?

by Herk



Series: The Life of Mycroft Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brothers, Complete, Eating Disorders, Gen, Kid Sherlock, Teenage Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5747683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herk/pseuds/Herk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Addictive personalities tend to run in families and Mycroft has always been about control.</p><p>More or less my reasoning why Sherlock's taunts about Mycroft's weight are actually a kind and caring thing, because brotherly feels are the best feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How's the diet?

Mycroft Holmes was a chubby child. Not exactly fat but the growth spurt that his mother insisted would come eventually hadn’t occurred yet when he was almost fifteen. His mother was an intelligent woman in many regards, but like many women she subconsciously thought she was a bad mother for working and leaving her boys alone for a couple of hours each week. And like many parents all over the world she tried to compensate for love with food. Sherlock was always a fussy eater but Mycroft liked good food and he loved his mother, giving him two good reasons to accept any treat she gave him. Naturally Mycroft wasn’t very popular at school as he was far more intelligent than any of his peers or teachers and children being the way they are they soon took to calling him “Fatty” Holmes.

Not that it mattered. Of course it didn’t. They were stupid inconsequential goldfish and once his growth spurt did occur the nickname would soon be forgotten.

When he started eating less no one really noticed or rather they didn’t think it was significant. He still was way less fussy than his little brother who got most of the attention during meals anyway and if he had little appetite there was no reason to force him to eat.

Incidentally his growth spurt finally did happen around the same time he started eating less and all apparent weight loss was attributed to that.

The only one who did notice was Sherlock of course.

*

“You lost weight.”

 

Mycroft smiled at his seven year old brother. “Being overweight isn’t very healthy, it was time I did something against it.”

 

“You weren’t overweight much.” Sherlock never understood the concept of a polite lie.

 

“Nevertheless brother mine, better fight it now than when the problem has increased.”

 

The younger boy nodded satisfied and went back to playing pirate.

*

“You’ve lost 3 pounds this week,” Sherlock observed.

 

Mycroft’s smile was proud. “It took some discipline but, yes I did.

 

Sherlock’s smile was equally proud to have deduced the right figure.

*

“Mycroft you haven’t eaten all day today.” Sherlock sounded worried.

  
“I’ve had some slight stomach troubles, nothing to worry about, Sher. I‘m sure it’ll be better tomorrow or the day after at the latest.”

 

“Shall I make you chamomile tea? Mummy makes that for me sometimes when I have stomach aches and it helps significantly more than a placebo.”

 

“You counted the numbers and calculated it properly?” Mycroft couldn’t help but be the teacher. Still he left the discussion of insufficient data to another day.

 

Sherlock nodded.

 

“I’m impressed. Also - yes I would like some tea.”

 

Sherlock ran out, beaming with pride.

*

“Mycroft when was the last time you ate something?”

 

Mycroft sighed. His brother’s obsession became quite tedious. “Two hours and,” he made a show of glancing at his watch, “forty three minutes ago.”

 

“Oh - what did you eat?”

 

“A bacon sandwich.”

 

There was a pause. “Why do you lie to me, My?”

 

“I didn’t lie.”

 

“Yes, you did. Father commented to Mummy that we were all out of bacon right before lunch.”

 

“Maybe he just overlooked the last one.” Mycroft’s expression had turned dour.

  
Sherlock shook his head. “I looked into the fridge three hours ago in search for some juice. There was no bacon. You also lost another two pounds last week.”

 

Mycroft leaned back and took a deep breath. He wanted to tell Sherlock to shut up and keeping his nose out of other people’s businesses. But this was Sherlock, his baby brother. He was told to shut up by far too many people far too many times and Mycroft refused to be one of them. “Is there a point to this?”

 

Sherlock bit his lip at Mycroft’s tone of voice but he refused to be discouraged.

 

“I’ve read up about this. You’ve been eating less and less. You find excuses to skip meals, talking about grabbing a sandwich instead but you never do. You’ve lost a lot of weight and at first that might have been healthy but I don’t think it is anymore. You’ve been complaining about headaches. You snap at me even when I didn’t break any of your favourite stuff. You just lied to me about eating. There’s an explanation for that - anorexia.”

 

The older boy turned pale at his little brother’s words.

 

“It’s an eating disorder something like an addiction. The book said it’s about control and that mostly girls suffer from it, but there are boys too. Mostly highly intelligent and sensitive ones.”

 

Mycroft gave a short and bitter laugh. “I’m hardly what anyone would call sensitive, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock’s jaw set in determination. “Balance of probability - if all indicators but one are there the deduction is sound.”

 

Mycroft had taught him that. Mycroft had taught his little brother how to keep his eyes open, how to use that brain of his. And now slow little Sherlock had figured out something his brilliant older brother was apparently blind to. Mycroft felt a wave of nausea washing over him.

 

“Sherlock?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m afraid you might be right about this one.”

 

“Oh.” Sherlock had obviously expected a different reaction, maybe had even hoped that he was wrong.

 

Mycroft conjured up a small smile. “I’m glad you brought it up, brother mine. It might have taken me some time to notice it myself. But don’t worry, now that I’m aware of it, everything is going to be fine.”

 

“Really?” Sherlock sounded doubtful. “The book said it was difficult to beat and needed years of therapy and you’re never really free of it like all addictions.”

 

This time Mycroft managed a genuine smile. “For most people that might be true, but I’m not most people, I’m Mycroft Holmes - and who would you rather believe, some book or your big brother?"

*

Of course things weren’t as easy as he made them out to be that night. It was one of the few times he actually lied to his little brother to protect him and for a few years it worked. It took Sherlock some years until he realized that when Mycroft checked the mirror he actually saw some fat distorted version of himself looking back at him. That Mycroft checked his weight obsessively because facts were the only way to silence that voice in the back of his head telling him he needed to lose weight. In times of great stress Mycroft had to force himself to eat and sometimes he lost that battle against himself. Working out helped, but when his first and only relationship didn’t survive university he worked out until he collapsed. The official story (that is the one their parents were told, no one else even heard about it) was that the stress of the finals had taken its toll and only Sherlock who was a teenager by then saw the truth.  
Everyone who knew the Holmes boys knew that Mycroft worried about Sherlock. No one but Sherlock and Mycroft knew that the opposite was equally true. Every jab at Mycroft’s weight, every question about the diet was nothing but Sherlock forcing his big brother to deny the obviously false accusations, to argue facts and thereby not only silencing his annoying brother but also the far more dangerous traitor in his own mind.


End file.
